


Punish Me

by ladyroxanne21



Series: Punish Me [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Harry, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Harry in a Maid's Uniform, Kink, M/M, Past Abuse, Post-War, Psychological Torture, Top Draco Malfoy, Torture, sort of slow build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-19 23:50:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7382500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyroxanne21/pseuds/ladyroxanne21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the war, Draco refused to confirm that Harry was who had been captured, and it nearly cost him much more than Harry thought fair. After the war, Harry thinks Draco deserves a chance to punish those who hurt him. Even better, Harry might also have a chance to atone for those who were hurt or died in the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punish Me

Harry felt like the biggest idiot who had ever lived. He was on the run for his life – _and_ the lives of his two best friends – and he'd gone and done the _one_ thing that almost guaranteed they'd lose. He'd said Voldemort's name out loud even though it's Taboo, and now they were captured by snatchers and about to be handed over like the prize they were. Thankfully Hermione was smart enough to hit him with a powerful stinging jinx so that his face and scar were unrecognizable.

“Who are you?” Demanded a woman's cold voice.

“You know me!” There was resentment in the werewolf man's voice. “Fenrir Greyback! We've caught Harry Potter!”

Greyback seized Harry and dragged him around to face the light, forcing the other prisoners to shuffle around too.

“I know 'e's swollen, Ma'am, but it's 'im!” Piped up Scabior. “If you look a bit closer, you'll see 'is scar. And this 'ere, see the girl? The Mudblood who's been traveling around with 'im, Ma'am. There's no doubt it's 'im, and we got 'is wand as well! 'Ere Ma'am –”

Through his puffy eyelids, Harry saw Narcissa Malfoy scrutinizing his swollen face. Scabior thrust the blackthorn wand at her. She raised her eyebrows.

“Bring them in,” she said after only a moment of indecision.

Harry and the others were shoved and kicked up broad stone steps into a hallway lined with portraits.

“Follow me,” Narcissa ordered regally, leading the way across the hall. “My son, Draco, is home for his Easter holidays. If that is Harry Potter, he will know.”

The drawing room dazzled after the darkness outside; even with his eyes almost closed, Harry could make out the wide proportions of the room. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, more portraits against the dark purple walls. One of two figures rose from chairs in front of an ornate marble fireplace as the prisoners were forced into the room by the snatchers.

“What is this?” The dreadfully familiar, drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy fell on Harry's ears. He was panicking now: He could see no way out, and it was easier – as his fear mounted – to block out Voldemort's thoughts which had been plaguing him, though his scar was still burning.

“They say they've got Potter,” said Narcissa's cold voice. “Draco, come here.”

Harry did not dare look directly at Draco, but saw him obliquely: a figure slightly taller than he was, rising from an armchair, his face a pale and pointed blur beneath white-blond hair. Greyback forced the prisoners to turn again so as to place Harry directly beneath the chandelier.

“Well, boy?” Rasped the werewolf. Thankfully, it was not a full moon and so he could not turn anyone, nor transform into his terrifying animal form. Although, the man was dangerous and feral all on his own.

Harry was facing a mirror over the fireplace; a great gilded thing in an intricately scrolled frame. Through the slits of his eyes, he saw his own reflection for the first time since leaving Grimmauld Place.

His face was huge, shiny, and pink, every feature distorted by Hermione's jinx. His black hair reached his shoulders and there was a dark shadow around his jaw. Had he not known that it was he who stood there, he would have wondered who was wearing his glasses. He resolved not to speak, for his voice was sure to give him away, yet he still avoided eye contact with Draco as the latter approached.

“Well, Draco?” Lucius Malfoy asked. He sounded avid. “Is it? Is it Harry Potter?”

“I can't – I can't be sure,” answered Draco. He was keeping his distance from Greyback, and seemed as scared of looking at Harry as Harry was of looking at him.

“But look at him carefully, look! Come closer!” Lucius had never sounded so excited. “Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiven!” Lucius reminded him.

“I know,” Draco mumbled, looking a bit numb and resigned.

“Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr. Malfoy,” Greyback growled menacingly.

“Of course not, Greyback!” Lucius snarled impatiently. He approached Harry himself, came so close that Harry could see the usually languid, pale face in sharp detail even through his swollen eyes. With his face a puffy mask, Harry felt as though he was peering out from the bars of a cage.

“What did you do to him?” Lucius asked Greyback with one brow raised curiously. “How did he get into this state?”

“That wasn't us,” Greyback stated defensively.

“Looks like a stinging jinx to me,” Lucius murmured vaguely, as if lost in thought. His gray eyes raked Harry's forehead. “There's something here,” he whispered to himself, and then added louder: “It could be the scar, stretched tight... Draco, come here. Look properly! What do you think?”

Harry saw Draco's face up close now, right beside his father's. They were extraordinarily alike, except that while his father looked beside himself in excitement, Draco's expression was full of reluctance. Even fear.

“I don't know,” he stated in an even voice, and then he walked away toward the fireplace where his mother stood watching.

“We had better be certain, Lucius,” Narcissa called to her husband in her cold, clear voice. “Completely sure that it is Potter, before we summon the Dark Lord... They say this is his,” she was looking closely at the blackthorn wand. “But it does not resemble Ollivander's description... If we are mistaken, if we call the Dark Lord here for nothing... Remember what he did to Rowle and Dolohov?”

Greyback bristled and snarled, and as he did so, the drawing room door opened behind Harry. “What abut the Mudblood, then?!”

“What _is_ this?! What's happened, Cissy?” The sound of _that voice_ wound Harry's fear to an even higher pitch. Bellatrix Lestrange walked slowly around the prisoners and stopped on Harry's right, staring at Hermione through her heavily lidded eyes. “Surely this is the Mudblood girl? This is Granger?”

“Yes yes, it's Granger!” Lucius cried desperately. “And beside her, we think, is Potter! Potter and his friends, caught at last!”

“Potter?” Bellatrix shrieked as she backed away, the better to take in Harry's appearance. “Are you _sure_?”

“As sure as we can be without confirmation,” Lucius stated a bit snidely. He pointed at Harry. “He's traveling with Potter's closest friends and has what is likely the famous scar on his forehead. It _has_ to be him!”

Bellatrix looked over at Draco, and then beckoned him to her side. He visibly steeled himself – Harry would swear that he suppressed a reluctant sigh – and then walked over to her as calmly as if he was walking along a beach on a bright and sunny day.

“Yes, Aunt Bella?”

“You know Potter; is it him?” Bellatrix asked, sounding far too innocent and sweet as she stroked Draco's cheek.

“I can't be sure,” Draco stated, and then took a deep breath.

Instantly, Bellatrix' demeanor changed, darkening like a stormy sky. She seized Draco's hair and yanked on it as she forced him to get closer to Harry. “Take a better look!”

“I can't be sure,” Draco stated calmly, despite the fact that his head must sting and burn.

“Why are you protecting him?” Bellatrix asked with a tone of deep accusation. She flung Draco to the side and took out her wand.

“Bella,” Narcissa cajoled, her hands out placatingly. “Don't. _Please_ don't!”

Lucius stepped forward, but Bellatrix expected this for she simply pointed her wand at Lucius and cast: “Petrificus Totalis!” This effectively stopped Lucius as he could no longer move nor speak. However, it was likely that he could still see and hear everything.

Draco knelt as she returned her wand to him. “Aunt Bella, think for a moment –” but before he could say another word, she cast: “Crucio!”

Draco made a soft grunting sound for a moment before he closed his eyes and relaxed as much as he could. His body shook uncontrollably, but otherwise, he gave no indication that anything was wrong.

“Perhaps you've lost your touch, Bellatrix,” Greyback snorted in amusement even as Narcissa was trying to shake her sister, crying out: “Bella, _please!”_

Bellatrix ended her curse on Draco abruptly so that she could turn her wand on Greyback. He roared from the pain before he had a chance to realize that she actually intended to curse him. The way his body jerked violently, it was clear that he wanted to grab her, but was too overwhelmed by the pain to do so.

“If you ever so much as dare to _hint_ that I've lost my touch again, I'll make sure that my Lord feeds you to his pet snake!” Bellatrix shrieked in outrage. She put a bit of extra oomph into her curse for a moment, and then stopped torturing Greyback so that she could look at Draco once more.

Draco was still on his knees. He watched her warily. “Auntie, dearest...”

“Don't!” Bellatrix screeched. “I don't want to hear anything other than you confirming that we have Potter so that I can call in the Dark Lord and hand him his prize!”

“But I can't –”

Bellatrix slapped his face. “Yes you can, and if you don't, I'll have this pathetic excuse for a werewolf drag you off and force a confession from you!”

Greyback looked extremely pleased, despite the fact that he was still recovering from his exposure to the unforgivable curse. “Yes! It won't be anywhere _near_ as good as the soft curves of the Mudblood, but he still looks quite tender.”

“No!” Narcissa gasped out. “Bella, you _can't!_ ”

Bellatrix simply laughed in a very insane way. It made everyone want to cover their ears, however, the prisoners couldn't and the rest didn't dare provoke her by doing so. She yanked on Narcissa's hair and shook her.

“Can't I?” Bellatrix asked with a crazy gleam in her eye. “You well know that my Lord has approved this as one of many ways for my darling nephew to be punished if he doesn't do as he is told.”

Narcissa gasped out softly as if wounded, tears leaking from her eyes. “Bella... please...” she whispered.

Greyback took the opportunity to haul Draco to his feet, and then hold him up by the throat. “I'll only take an hour or so...”

The suggested long time frame made Bellatrix growl and turn her attention to Greyback. “An hour or so?” She huffed indignantly. “I could torture the answer out of the Mudblood in less than ten minutes!”

Draco allowed himself to be dangled and nearly strangled with an expression as close to boredom as he could get at the moment. It was possibly the hardest thing he'd ever done, but he forced words out of his mouth.

“Aunt Bella... I... need... to tell you...”

Bellatrix gestured for Greyback to let Draco go for a moment, which he did by setting Draco on his feet, but maintaining a hard grip on his arm. Draco rubbed his throat for a moment before he realized that he was showing weakness and stopped. Then he cleared his throat until his voice came out.

“Aunt Bella, think for a moment. I _knew_ that this would be my punishment if I didn't tell you what you wanted to hear, and yet I still would rather face you and all of your punishments than even dare to hint that this might be Potter when I _cannot_ be sure! If I say it and it's not true, then the Dark Lord will do things to me that not even _you_ want to think about!”

Greyback did not care if there was logic in Draco's argument, he simply shoved Draco toward the nearest door, eager to play around for a bit. Draco huffed and tried to throw off the man's strong grip.

“Get your filthy hands off me! I am perfectly capable of walking on my own!” Draco insisted frostily. “And I know better than to try to escape a punishment, it _always_ turns out worse in the end!”

“Wait!” Bellatrix called out, sounding a bit impressed. “There's truth to your words, my darling Draco. It would be beyond stupid to call for the Dark Lord if we are not entirely certain...”

She stopped and paced the room a few times. Narcissa exhaled in profound relief and hastily snatched her son out of Greyback's custody. She pulled Draco into her arms and stroked his hair as she murmured: “Oh my darling son,” over and over. Draco simply stood there, letting her but not reacting in any way.

“I will torture the Mudblood, and whether or not she confesses, she'll be your prize, Greyback – after I'm done,” Bellatrix stated, sounding almost like a calm and reasonable person, despite her clearly insane and bloodthirsty actions.

She stepped closer to Draco and stroked his cheek. Harry thought he saw a faint shudder travel through Draco's body. Bellatrix ended the touching gesture with a gentle pat.

“I may have been the one to teach you Occlumency, but that doesn't mean that you can resist my Legilimency,” Bellatrix purred sweetly, as if talking to a precious kitten. “Later on, I will take a tour of your mind, and if I find that you have lied to me, then I will be sure to let the Dark Lord know. I'm sure we can find someone even more repugnant than Greyback to bend you over and punish you until beg for us to just kill you.”

Draco paled slightly, which was hard to see on his already pale and pointy face, but Harry was sure of it since Draco now looked gray rather than white. Draco took a deep breath to settle his nerves and a bit of color returned to his face. He nodded slowly.

“I know that, Aunt Bella. Don't think for a moment that I have forgotten,” Draco murmured. He even managed to sound as if he was discussing the weather.

“Good!” Bellatrix stated with an evil smirk. She then turned her attention to Greyback. “Bring the girl here, and then bring the rest down to the dungeon!”

What followed was almost a blur to Harry as he desperately tried to juggle painful thoughts coming at him from Voldemort with trying to keep Ron calm as Hermione screamed from repeated torture. Her screams were enough to make him want to claw his skull open and _rip_ the Dark Lord from his head, and then shove him down the throat of his gigantic snake!

Then Dobby was there and taking the rest of the prisoners to safety. Harry and Ron managed to trick Peter Pettigrew, watching in horror as the man's own magical hand strangled him to death. Finally, they were able to rescue Hermione; Harry disarming Draco in the process. When all was said and done, Harry and his friends were alive, but Dobby was dead.

But as he had turned into the darkness of Disapparation, Harry caught one last view of the drawing room: of the pale, frozen figures of Narcissa and Draco, holding onto to each other. Draco looked at Harry with an expression almost resembling relief. Harry would even swear he'd seen Draco mouth the words: _Defeat him_.

Or did he? That _couldn't_ be true! Could it? Unfortunately, Harry was too distraught by Dobby's death to spend any time thinking about it.

 

*****

 

Harry set all thoughts of Draco and the look on his face along with the words he might have said aside and focused on defeating Voldemort. It took all of his courage and he thought for sure that he was going to die – more than once. Hell! He _did_ die!

Even so, he defeated the Dark Lord in the Final Battle at Hogwarts. After that, life sort of continued on, despite the fact that Harry desperately wished that he could just stop and do nothing for a while. He testified at the trial on behalf the Malfoys because he felt he owed it to both Narcissa and Draco after everything that had happened.

Then... Life actually settled down for a while. Harry had time to think, and the more he thought, the more he felt uncomfortable about, well, about Draco. The information he had learned while being held at Malfoy Manor ate at him, until he felt like he had to do something, or go crazy!

So, Harry found Draco as the former Death Eater was trying to make penance. He was helping to rebuild Hogwarts. Harry was actually a bit surprised since he hadn't thought Draco would be willing to get his hands dirty.

When Draco saw Harry – as he was organizing a pile of rubble late one night – he stood up a bit straighter and narrowed his eyes warily. Everyone else had gone in for the night, and Draco was half certain that Harry intended him some sort of harm. Maybe a hex for old times sake.

Harry took a deep breath, and then retrieved a wand from his pocket. Draco was tempted to take a step back, but stopped himself. Sheer surprise smacked Draco over the head when Harry held out the wand.

“Go on, take it, it's yours,” Harry murmured.

Draco said nothing for a long moment as he studied Harry and the wand. Then he stepped forward, took his wand, and looked at it as if he had never seen a wand before in his life.

“Why are you giving it back?” Draco wondered, not trusting Harry's motives in the slightest.

“Because it's yours,” Harry stated simply, truthfully.

Draco was silent for a long moment because he had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact the Harry had actually given him his wand back. Finally, he nodded. “Thanks.”

“Also,” Harry began hesitantly. “After everything I've been through, do you have any idea what haunts me the most at night?”

This actually made Draco smirk a bit cruelly. “Those horrid red eyes and disgusting flat nose?”

Harry returned the smirk and even chuckled very softly. “No.” He then rubbed the back of his neck and shifted uncomfortably. “You refused to tell them that it was me, and I _know_ you knew it was me.” He sighed and looked down. “You refused to tell them even though you knew that they would torture and... and do _other_ things to you...”

Draco looked a bit shaky, but he suppressed it well. “Well... I also knew by then that the Dark Lord needed to be defeated, and I had no idea how such a thing could be done. All I had was the very tiny hope that maybe you could do it... and you did...”

“Still...” Harry muttered softly. “When I think about what almost happened... Hell! For all I know, it might have still happened after I left!” Harry roared in anger and wished he had something to throw – something that would shatter with a satisfying crescendo.

“It didn't,” Draco stated, his face a mask that hid all emotion. “Not that day. Not for that.”

“But it did happen at some point for some other reason?” Harry asked, his voice full of sympathy.

It hurt Draco to hear the warmth in Harry's voice, so he turned away. “What does it matter?”

“It matters because it's _not_ right!” Harry insisted vehemently. “I literally _died_ and I am telling you that _nothing_ I have been through seems quite as bad as that!”

Draco was so surprised that he turned to face Harry once more, his mouth gaping. He had no idea what to say to that. Part of him was ever so slightly soothed by Harry's concern.

And then Harry shocked him all over again by lowering to his knees. “I know that it will never make what happened right, but...” He took a deep breath, exhaled, and then took another deep breath. “But I'd like to try. To make up for it, that is. Do anything and everything to me that they did to you. I'll bear it as best I can, and I won't fight back.”

Draco felt like all the air had been punched out of his lungs. He stumbled and took a step back. “Wha...? Harry...?”

Harry felt a lot calmer now that he had said it. He gave Draco an encouraging smile. “I'll put it in writing. That way, if anything goes wrong, it will be clear that I am entirely at fault. If it will make you feel better, we can put a time limit on it. Count up all the major events you suffered, and then we'll make up a contract allowing you to abuse me in any way you want for that many days.”

“No!” Draco cried out, his carefully maintained mask cracking for the first time in a long time. “Never! Don't you understand? I am not like that! I can't just do that to another person!”

“But I think it might help you,” Harry said with confidence. “And I think it might help me too. I've had this unshakable feeling like everything that happened – not just to you, but to everyone who died or got hurt in the war – that it's all my fault. I need to atone for it, and you need to punish those who've hurt you. Only you can't. So, why not punish me instead?”

Draco sighed, feeling frustrated. “I don't think I can. I don't think you deserved to be punished, and I really just want to forget anything bad ever happened to me. I'm thinking about finding a Mind Healer who can go in and selectively Obliviate me, so that I don't have those particular memories.”

“Oh,” Harry murmured in disappointment. He looked to the ground. “Well... I hope that helps you.”

Draco's mind was racing madly. He really didn't think that he could do what Harry was asking him, but it meant a lot more to him than he'd first realized that Harry asked _him_ to do it. He studied his nails carefully so that Harry couldn't read anything in his expression.

“However, I might be willing to do little things for you, if you'd like,” Draco offered. “I learned far more than I'd like about punishment and torture. I could do the things that I know wouldn't actually hurt you.”

“What is the point of a punishment if it doesn't actually hurt?” Harry asked in disbelief. He was still on his knees as it hadn't occurred to him to get up yet.

“The form of punishment that is generally considered humane is incarceration, and that is not supposed to hurt,” Draco pointed out, half sneering like he almost always did when talking to Harry, and half trying to sound bored.

Harry thought about this a moment. “So... instead of doing anything you want to me, you're just going to lock me up and let me sit there, bored out of my mind, doing nothing but dwelling on everything that happened?” Harry snorted in disbelief. “I don't need _you_ for that! I do that well enough on my own, thank you very much!”

Draco merely shrugged, and turned to finish what he was working on. “I think we're done here.”

“Wait!” Harry cried out in frustration. “There must be _something_ you wish you could do! Something that gives you nightmares and angers you to no end!”

Draco paled. “You want me to do the things in my _nightmares_ ? To _you_?” He stared at Harry in utter shock. When Harry had suggested doing everything that had been done to him, Draco had assumed that he meant the little tortures, or even the big tortures and humiliations. The bodily violations... not the truly terrifying things!

“Well,” Harry paused nervously. He _thought_ he had a good idea of what Draco could do to him, but the way Draco was horrified made Harry wonder what exactly was the worst thing that had happened to Draco. What was in his nightmares?

Harry took a deep breath to steady his nerves. “Well, what do you have nightmares about?”

Draco exhaled a ragged breath and muttered: “I need a drink for this!” He looked around and found a large rock to sit on. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was better than standing there, towering over Harry.

When he felt ready, he closed his eyes and turned his head toward the sky. “My worst nightmare is a sort of collection of watching the Dark Lord kill people. In it, he forces me to torture and kill people too. My biggest fear at the moment is that even if I have the worst of my memories Obliviated, I'll still have these nightmares. Only I won't understand why.”

Harry scooted forward until he was able to touch Draco, which he did by placing a hand on Draco's knee. “I know a little... More than you think I do, anyway. I was connected to Voldemort, and so I saw through his eyes many of the things he did. I saw some of the things he made you do. I saw it for myself how you reacted to the Cruciatus Curse. You barely grunted, and your body only shook a little. I've wondered ever since just exactly how much you've had to suffer that a curse with the sole purpose of causing as much pain as possible had practically no effect on you...”

Draco shrugged. “I just... I got very good at separating my mind into different compartments. It's why I'm so good at Occlumency, and it's how I was able to ignore the pain of the curse. It's why I'm not nearly as bothered by the things that happened to _me_ as I probably should be.”

Harry was a little incredulous at this. “So... you're saying that you're actually more upset by what you saw happen to other people than you are by what happened to you?”

Draco shrugged again, his head still tilted to the sky but not looking at anything in particular, except he was vaguely trying to figure out where his constellation was. “I guess that's true enough.”

“Why Draco Malfoy, if I didn't know better, I'd swear you had a heart after all!” Harry joked wryly.

Draco smirked, actually looking at Harry for the first time since he sat down. “Shh, don't tell anybody, I'm trying to keep it a secret!”

Harry grinned for a moment more, and then his face smoothed out before falling into a sort of hallow expression. He looked down, one hand still on Draco's knee. “My nightmares usually have to do with being Nagini while eating... people...”

“Ah,” Draco stated tactfully. “I see.”

Harry nodded in agreement, though he felt it very likely that Draco didn't see. “I was connected to her through him. Through her eyes, I saw the man who is the closest thing I have to a father attacked. When it happened, I really thought _I_ had done it! That's another thing I haven't been punished for...”

Draco couldn't believe how morose Harry sounded. “You can't really feel that _you_ need to be punished for the Dark Lord ordering his snake to attack someone!”

Harry sighed in disappointment, knowing that no one would ever understand how he felt. Ron and Hermione came the closest by understanding that he actually did feel this way, but they could not understand _why_ he felt the way he did. And they helped by talking through it with him; by reminding him that none of it was really his fault. Even so, he was certain that it would continue to haunt him until he was punished for it.

Draco was surprised to realize that he had pulled Harry closer until Harry was resting his head on Draco's knee, and Draco was stroking his hair comfortingly. Both stayed relatively quiet – each lost in their own thoughts – for several moments. Suddenly the quiet was broken quite abruptly.

“What the hell?” Ron cried out in astonishment. He and Hermione stood close by, having come looking for Harry. Neither had expected him to be kneeling before Draco Malfoy with Draco petting his head.

Harry shifted his head so that he could look at his best friends. “There's nothing to worry about,” he assured them. “We're just having a surprisingly deep conversation.”

“I'll do it,” Draco announced, startling even himself.

“You will?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Well, I'll try,” Draco amended. “I can't make any promises other than I'll try.”

“Do you want to do it tonight at my place, or would you prefer to wait until after we draw up a contract like I suggested?” Harry asked, far more eager than he thought he would be.

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes. “I'm almost certain that a contract would do no good. If anything went wrong, I'd still be sent to Azkaban, and maybe that's where I should be after all.”

“Draco, you don't deserve that,” Harry insisted softly, shifting slightly until he was hugging Draco's knees.

“And you don't deserve to be punished for what happened either, but it's what you want,” Draco pointed out a bit harshly.

“Harry...” Hermione interrupted softly. “Please tell me that you're not talking about what I think you're talking about.”

Harry turned his face toward Hermione. “Do you have your purse on you?”

Hermione held it up. “Of course.” She gave him a look like she was tempted to roll her eyes over such a silly question.

“Can you give me a bit of blank parchment and that blood quill?” Harry asked, holding out his hand.

“Oh Harry,” she whispered with a shake of her head, but handed him the requested items after digging around in her purse for a few moments. Considering that her purse was so small that it didn't look big enough to stick her hand in, and yet her entire arm disappeared into it, Draco really had to wonder how much bigger it was on the inside.

When Harry had the items in his hand, he spread the parchment out on Draco's legs, and then wrote: _I, Harry Potter, hereby give permission to Draco Malfoy to do punish me as painfully and harmfully as he sees fit, no matter the consequences, for a period of_ – He looked up at Draco: “How long?”

Draco thought this over as he looked to the sky once more. He wanted to pick a time that Harry would find acceptable, but that wouldn't obligate him for too long. “Three days?”

Harry thought this over carefully, and then nodded. “Three days,” he agreed, writing it on the parchment before signing and dating it. “You'll need to accept the terms and sign it too.”

Draco shifted the parchment so that it faced him, and then hissed slightly in surprise from the mild pain caused by the blood quill as he wrote: _I, Draco Malfoy, promise to punish Harry Potter as he sees fit so long as he promises to provide me with and actually use a safeword should things go too far in his opinion._

He then signed it and wrote the word safeword followed by a blank space. He turned the parchment back to Harry, who filled the blank with the word butterfly. After that, Harry turned to Hermione once more.

“Will you sign as my witness?” Harry asked her.

Hermione groaned, even though she had no idea what had been written yet, but nodded. “You know I'll do anything for you.”

Harry handed her the contract, Hermione flinching as she read it. “Harry! This is –!” She cut herself off with a frustrated sigh, and then shifted so that one hand provided support for the parchment as she wrote: _I, Hermione Granger, hereby testify that Harry Potter is sound of mind and in good health. He created this contract willingly and without coercion. In fact, I am rather under the impression that it was Draco Malfoy who had to be talked into this mad plan! I also vow to personally check on Harry after the three days are up to ensure that he is still in relatively good health._

She signed the contract and handed it back to Harry. “Look it over, but I should probably be the one to hang onto it for safe keeping.”

Draco shook his head. “I'm the one that would need to provide it should anything go wrong.”

Harry solved the problem by creating a magically identical copy via a duplication spell. He handed the copy to Hermione, and then gave the original to Draco. Hermione stashed the copy and the blood quill in her purse. Draco shrank the original before tucking it in one of his pockets.

Meanwhile, Ron was busy glaring at Harry. “You're mental if you think I'm going to just stand back and let him harm you!” He wasn't entirely certain what was going on, but based on the little bit of information he had heard, and the fact that a contract was necessary – one that upset Hermione at that – Ron was fairly sure that Harry had asked Malfoy to punish him, and that Malfoy had agreed.

Harry returned Ron's glare. “Ron... I want this. Please don't try to stop me, or I'll have to reset the wards around my house to keep you out!”

Ron calmly stared at Harry until it became abundantly clear that Harry was serious. Ron capitulated with a sigh. “Fine...”

Harry took Draco by the hand and pulled him to his feet, which Draco then returned the favor. Harry pointed toward the main gate. It was only a few yards away.

“We'll get outside of the wards so that I can Apparate us to my house,” Harry said. He looked over to Ron and Hermione, who both nodded reluctantly. Draco nodded, and then it only took a couple minutes to leave the grounds of Hogwarts. Harry was still holding Draco's hand, so he simply focused on his house.

After arriving, Draco looked around curiously. All he could see was a bit of magic that made his head ache and his stomach churn. He looked away and felt an intense relief.

A few moments passed in silence before it occurred to him to wonder what Harry was waiting for. A loud crack answered him before he actually decided to ask. Ron and Hermione appeared, both sounding slightly out of breath.

“Sorry!” Hermione gasped. “I had to break that into a couple of smaller trips, and it took a lot out of me!”

Harry nodded in understanding. “I know.”

Hermione didn't waste any time digging through her purse for a scrap of parchment and a regular quill. She quickly wrote Harry's address on it, and then handed it to Draco. Draco read the parchment, and then felt strangely surreal as he watched Harry's house appear from nowhere.

“Ah,” Draco stated in sudden understanding.

Harry gave Hermione a kiss on her cheek. “Thanks.”

Hermione sighed as if she was letting go of something highly frustrating. “I'll be back in three days exactly to check on you!”

Harry simply nodded, and then placed a hand on Ron's back. No words were necessary as Ron nodded in understanding. He sent one last glare at Draco before holding out his hand to Hermione.

“See you, Harry,” Ron said.

“See you later,” Harry promised with a smile.

After Hermione took Ron's hand and apparated them away, Harry led Draco into his house and gave him a basic tour, starting with:

“FILTHY BLOOD TRAITOR! DISGUSTING VERMIN – Wait! You look remarkably like Lucius Malfoy, who married darling Narcissa.”

“Yes,” Draco admitted in astonishment. He really hadn't been expecting to be confronted by a portrait of his great aunt! “They're my parents.”

“Oh how wonderful!” Walburga Black gushed. “I am overjoyed to see the true Heir to the House of Black at last!”

“Wow,” Harry murmured, impressed. “She actually likes you...” He pulled out his wand and used it to close the curtain in front of the portrait. “Go back to sleep you!”

After that, the tour revealed a rather cozy house, even if it was a bit shabby in places. Harry ended in the hallway outside his bedroom – which was the master bedroom and quite large. It had also been fixed up nicely when the Order had stayed here.

“So...” Harry began. “You can conjure or transfigure anything you need, or I can buy anything you can't get magically. In any case, you can consider my house at your disposal while you're here.”

Draco looked around, pinching his chin in thought. “Hmm... I think I'll start with...”

He took out his wand and tested it with a few simple spells such as Lumos to see if it still worked for him. When he was satisfied that it did, he used a spell to fling Harry up against a wall in an utterly empty bedroom. Invisible shackles held Harry firmly, his arms and legs held apart, but not uncomfortably so.

Draco scrutinized him blankly for a few seconds. “I'm going to take some time to do as you suggested – conjure and transfigure things. When I get back – if you're still serious about this – we'll see if I can find your pain threshold.”

After that, Draco walked away, leaving Harry imprisoned in his own home. The first thing he did was snoop through Harry's home, looking for a comfortable chair. Not finding one that he liked, he chose a basic wooden one from the kitchen.

The second thing he did was find a lovely tea set in the kitchen and make tea. Kreacher protested quite venomously until the house elf verified with Harry that Draco could do whatever he wanted, and then Kreacher muttered continuously about how mad it was for Harry to allow his childhood rival the run of his house.

Draco found it a bit interesting that Kreacher didn't seem to care that Harry was incarcerated in his own home.

Levitating both the tea and the chair behind him, Draco found a suitable small round table and levitated that after him too. When he returned to the room that was empty of everything except Harry, Draco felt slightly more prepared. But there was one last thing he needed...

Letting the gathered items sit outside the closed door for a moment, Draco wandered to the rather large library full of books that the Blacks had been collecting for centuries. However, instead of taking the time to look for an interesting book, Draco simply chose the one that was sitting open on a table next to a chair. This meant that it was probably something Harry or one of his friends had been reading recently.

Now fully prepared, Draco opened the door to Harry's temporary jail cell, and arranged the chair and table to his liking – across the room from Harry. Harry wouldn't have been able to reach Draco even if he was wearing a 3-6 foot chain rather than being shackled directly to the wall. Draco smirked; this was starting to feel like a game to him.

After transfiguring the plain chair into an extremely plush and comfortable armchair, Draco sat down and poured himself some tea. After taking a sip – sighing from the pleasure since it was quite excellent, likely bought for Walburga herself – Draco finally looked up at Harry.

“Well now, how eager are you to find out just exactly how much pain you can tolerate?” Draco asked.

Harry tried to shrug, but it looked weird with him stuck to the wall. “I don't know that it'll make much of a difference. I have a high tolerance for pain after all these years.”

“Yes, I imagine you do,” Draco stated. Since Harry hadn't objected, Draco simply hit him with a stinging hex that he intended to be about a medium intensity. If Harry's tolerance was as high as he said it was, then the hex should barely cause him pain.

Harry frowned and looked at the spot where the hex hit him, but didn't say anything. Draco increased the intensity just a little – making Harry twitch in annoyance each time he was hit. With that sorted for the moment, Draco picked up the book and started reading it, sending hexes at Harry randomly and completely without warning.

Harry suppressed a sigh of frustration as he watched Draco sip his tea, read a book, and basically ignore him aside from the hexes that did nothing but irritate him. It wasn't until about a half an hour later – when he was getting fed up enough to complain – that Harry realized that the stinging hex was slowly getting stronger. Now, rather than annoy, the hex was starting to actually hurt. This was creating a strange tingle throughout his body in all the various places the hex had hit him.

So far, this was mainly on his chest and arms, with a few of them hitting his upper legs. Harry frowned and looked down at his legs because the last hex that had hit his thigh felt almost as good as it had stung. A new hex hit him hard enough to pull a small hissing gasp of pain from him.

“Ah,” Draco murmured, sounding absent minded as he turned the page. “Now we're getting somewhere.” Even though he sounded like he wasn't even giving the matter any thought, he was mildly impressed. The intensity of the stinging hex was now such that it should be making Harry scream – or at least cry out angrily – but it wasn't. Draco had to wonder just how high his tolerance actually was.

“I'm only going to do this once. Probably. Crucio!” Draco called out, holding the spell for exactly five seconds before he stopped it. To his astonishment, Harry did cry out and shake in reaction, but not nearly as much as he should have.

Hell! Fenrir Greyback the _werewolf_ – who also had a high tolerance for pain – had screamed and flailed when hit with this curse! Granted, it had been at the hands of Aunt Bella, who was insane enough to enjoy using the curse much more powerfully than Draco just had. But still...

It boggled Draco's mind! However, he hid it well.

“I see,” Draco stated mildly. He now knew that he had to amplify the stinging hex quite a bit before it would actually hurt Harry. This reassured him almost as much as it alarmed him. He took his time, thus another half an hour passed before Harry was crying out with each hex.

Draco was making progress on the book, which seemed to be written by a muggle, but was about a woman who had an astonishing amount of magic in her hands. The power to kill crowds with barely a thought. It made Draco shudder to think what would have happened had the Dark Lord held such power! (The Path of Fate by Diana Pharaoh Francis.)

Another lazy flick of his wand had Harry crying out in a way that sounded strange to Draco. He narrowed his eyes and set his book aside so that he could stand and get closer to Harry. A good look at Harry showed him that the bound man was shaking even as he slumped against the wall. His breathing was erratic and he looked almost as if he had just...

Orgasmed.

_Oh..._

“That's interesting,” Draco remarked with a dry smirk. “I'm not sure if that counts as punishment.”

Harry didn't really hear him since he was off in la la land at the moment. Draco knew that he had reached a point in which nothing would reach Harry for quite a while, so he carefully released Harry and used just a touch of magic to carry him to the bed in Harry's bedroom. Draco lay him down, and then sat on the bed and stroked the luxuriously thick and silky black hair until he felt Harry sleeping peacefully.

Draco watched over him for an hour or so, and then left the room. He picked one of the guest bedrooms, arranged it to his liking, and then lay down and went to sleep. During the night, he suffered from a couple of his usual nightmares.

“Draco!”

Draco sat up abruptly, tearing free from a vivid dream in which he was magically peeling layers of flesh from a nameless muggle, and then feeding it to a viciously rabid dog. His heart was racing and he was tempted to bury his face in a pillow and start bawling. He looked around frantically until he noticed Harry staring at him.

“Draco... it was just a nightmare...” Harry murmured soothingly.

Draco took a few deep breaths to calm down. “Yes...”

Harry gave him a tiny smile. “For possibly the first time in a long time, I actually _didn't_ have any nightmares. I actually feel well rested!”

“That's good,” Draco murmured, just now starting to feel like he was awake and safe.

“So...” Harry began, looking away with a light blush. “Do you know what happened last night?”

Draco was momentarily confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I was being tortured, and then I... passed out?” Harry blushed a little bit harder and scratched the back of his neck.

“It happens sometimes,” Draco informed him. “A person gets so used to pain that it turns into something very like pleasure. As I understand it, the body sends out a chemical to help deal with the pain and enough of it will send the body into a state somewhere between shock and orgasm.”

“Yeah,” Harry admitted quietly. “I remember feeling really good right before I felt like I was flying. Then I would swear that I was floating in a void somewhere. Then there was nothing. No nightmares. Just sleep.”

Draco looked down at his hands. “I understand. It always seemed strange to me that those times when... Well, after, I'd sleep so soundly. One would think that _that_ would be when I had the most nightmares.”

“So...” Harry wondered curiously. “What now? Breakfast? Or do you plan to pin me to the wall all day while you read?”

Draco studied him carefully. “When you said that I could do anything to you, did you mean that literally, or did you just mean the painful, punishing things?”

Harry shrugged. “I meant anything. Why? What do you have in mind?”

Draco straightened up, which looked a bit strange since he was sitting in bed. “In that case, go make me breakfast. Make it with your own hands – not your house elf – and then serve it to me in bed.”

Harry was tempted to laugh. “Anything in particular you want me to make?”

Draco shrugged. “Nothing special. Just bacon and eggs. I hope that even _you_ can't screw that up too badly.”

Harry did laugh at that. “Actually, you might be surprised, but I can cook pretty well!”

Draco gave Harry a look that clearly said: _I'll believe it when I see it._

Harry shook his head in amusement, then left the room to do as told. Draco took the opportunity to take a shower – transfiguring the cheap stuff Harry used into the best replica of his preferred stuff as possible. Then he cast cleaning spells on his clothes before transfiguring them into something more comfortable. Lastly, he climbed back into bed and summoned the book he was reading.

“Your hair is wet and messy!” Harry blurted out in surprise when he carried a tray full of food into the room.

Draco looked at him as if he had just spoken a different language. “I just took a shower. Of course my hair is wet. I like to let it dry all on its own before I style it.”

Harry flushed just a little and shrugged. “I just can't recall ever seeing you with a hair out of place before.” Aside from during the final battle, that is.

“Hmm,” Draco hummed noncommittally. He opted not to tell Harry that he rarely let anyone see him before he had his hair styled.

Harry made sure not to spill anything on the tray as he sat on the foot of the bed on the opposite side from Draco. Then he set the tray down gently across Draco's lap. Lastly, he took his own plate from the tray and held it as he ate.

“I made sausages too because I love them,” Harry informed Draco. “And I hope you don't mind cheesy scrambled eggs.”

“That actually sounds good,” Draco murmured. A sense of surrealism washed over him as it occurred to him once again that he was in _Harry Potter's house_ eating breakfast after having tortured Harry last night. Even stranger, they weren't bickering at all!

A new thought occurred to Draco. _He did say he'd do anything..._ The moment Harry finished his breakfast and set his plate aside, Draco wiggled his foot so that it tapped Harry's leg.

“Massage my feet,” Draco commanded.

Harry huffed a tiny laugh, and then rolled his eyes. “Anything means anything, I guess.” He promptly pulled Draco's foot into his lap and rubbed it. It took him some time to figure out how to do so effectively, but soon, Draco was biting back moans of pleasure. After Harry was done with the other foot, Draco was ready to take a nap!

“How badly do you want actual torture?” Draco asked, still reluctant to do anything to truly hurt Harry.

“I feel like I deserve it! At least until I...” He wasn't quite sure how to finish that.

“Fine,” Draco murmured, steeling himself. “Go to the room and bring something with you to transfigure into either a bench or a long narrow table. Something sturdy enough to hold your weight.”

“Okay,” Harry agreed without the slightest protest.

Draco remained in bed until Harry called out that he was ready. Then he walked into the room and made small adjustments to the table until one side was about a foot lower than the other. After that, he used his wand to lift Harry up and settle him onto the table, binding him securely.

The last thing Draco did before leaving the room to make some tea, was cast an Aguamenti and set it to drip slowly onto Harry's face – just above and between his eyes. He wasn't gone long, but when he came back – with a pot of tea that should last him several hours while keeping itself warm, along with the book he was reading – Harry looked severely annoyed. His eyes were closed, but the expression on his face looked like he sincerely wished to hunt down and murder a bee that was buzzing in his ear.

Draco got comfortable in his chair and poured himself a cup of tea before focusing on the book. Only half an hour passed before Harry started making growling noises each time a drop of water hit him. Barely 45 more minutes had passed when Harry started bargaining.

“Okay, this is starting to piss me off! Malfoy, enough of this! Malfoy!”

Draco looked over at him, decided that Harry must not mean it because he wasn't using his safeword, and then returned his attention to his book. He ignored all of Harry's pleas after that. And make no mistake, an hour later, Harry was begging.

“Malfoy! Draco _please!_ I can't take this any more! I'll do anything you want! I'll frickin' suck you off, just _please_ don't make me do this!” Harry renewed his struggles, which were pointless since he couldn't get free unless he used his magic. The thing that made Harry stop and think for a moment was that he _could_ use his magic to break free, and yet, he didn't.

Then he resumed his begging. “I'll tell you anything you want to know if you just stop this! You want to know about my miserable childhood? Well I'll tell you! After my parents died, my mother's muggle sister took me in even though she hated me. Her husband took great pleasure in telling me what a freak I was. They made sure I knew exactly how pathetic and worthless I am! My cousin Dudley used to beat me up when he was frustrated or upset. The only clothes I ever had were hand me downs from my cousin, who was a good five sizes bigger than me, so I looked downright pathetic! I cooked and cleaned for them, only eating when they deemed I had earned it. I slept in the cupboard under the stairs until I turned 11 and went to Hogwarts. My Aunt and Uncle tried their best to stop me from going so they could stamp the perversion right out of me!”

Draco had been staring at Harry in shock for several moments. Now, he leapt to his feet and ended the Aguamenti spell before Harry could devolve into even more frantically confessed bits of private information. A puzzled frown tugged on his brows as he wondered why Harry hadn't used his safeword if he really was at his limit.

With a surprising amount of compassion, Draco helped Harry sit up, and then cast a drying spell on him. “I want to ask you if all of that is true, but I'm fairly certain that you don't have the training to lie during torture like that. So... I don't know what to say...”

Harry huffed a short laugh, absently wiping at his face as if there was still water there. “That's probably a first!” He then closed his eyes and shuddered lightly. “I did actually want you to stop, but apparently not very badly. I could have broken free at any point, but I didn't. Even so, that was... torture...”

Draco was tempted to laugh, but shrugged instead. “That's what you asked for.”

“I know,” Harry murmured. Then his eyes went far away. “I wonder how Dudley is doing...” he whispered.

Draco snorted derisively at that. “Those muggles treated you badly while growing up, and yet you want to know how your cousin is doing?!”

Harry focused on Draco with a completely serious expression. “When I think of him now, Dudley reminds me a little of you. Both of you were raised by parents who taught you to do things that definitely aren't right, and because you were raised with it, you thought it was the thing to do. But now that _you_ are older, you seem to have made up your own mind about right and wrong, and... Well... The last time I saw Dudley, he was genuinely concerned for me. Maybe he'd had a chance to grow up and change his mind too.”

Draco narrowed his eyes a bit petulantly. “You do realize that your sob story only serves to emphasize the point that Muggles shouldn't be allowed to raise future witches and wizards.”

Harry sighed somewhat sadly. “Actually, it seems to me that it does not matter if a person is raised by a muggle or a wizard. If the attitude of the parent or guardian is horrible, then the child will probably be horrible too.”

Draco quietly looked to the floor for a few moments while he thought this over. “You weren't,” he whispered, and then cleared his throat. “I mean, don't get me wrong, you acted like an arrogant bastard most of the time, but you were never a horrible person.”

Harry sighed heavily, feeling like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “Maybe that's because this whole time, all I have ever done is what people told me to do because I want them to like me.”

“So... You're saying that you saved the Wizarding World from the most evil man in all of creation simply because you wanted people to _like_ you?” Draco asked incredulously.

Harry cleared his throat. “Yeah... Maybe I am. Maybe that really is why I did it. I didn't want to do it – to tell you the truth – but what else was I supposed to do? Maybe that's why I feel like I should be punished and why I don't feel like I deserve all the attention I get.”

“Well,” Draco began, desperate to change the subject. “Why don't you do something to keep you occupied for a while? Weed the garden or something mundane like that.”

Harry smiled, feeling much better than he had a few moments ago. “I actually do have a nice garden. Weeding is one of those chores my Aunt Petunia had me do, so now that I live on my own, I find it rather relaxing. During the war, going back for the summer was stressful because I never actually knew what was going on or if anyone had been killed by Voldemort recently, but doing chores and weeding the garden helped take my mind off things for a while.”

Again, Draco didn't really know what to say, so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Good. That means it will help you now. Go do that for a while, and then you can make us lunch. I might actually be finished with this book by then.”

“You read fast like Hermione,” Harry murmured with a fond smile.

“I'll take that as a compliment,” Draco stated with a displeased sneer. Then he sighed in reluctant acceptance. “She always did keep me on my toes. I could never quite get the top grades because of her.”

Harry smirked at him before leaving the room. Draco returned to his chair to read some more while Harry made a pit stop in his room to change into nothing but a pair of shorts. In his mind, gardening meant basking in the sun.

Almost two hours passed before Draco started to feel hungry, so he went looking for Harry. He found Harry in the garden as suggested. His head seemed to spin strangely, making Draco feel woozy and completely unprepared for the sight of Harry practically naked and glistening like a God!

“Lunch, right?” Harry asked when he noticed Draco standing there watching him.

“Er...” Draco could not think straight. “Erm... Sorry, what?”

“I bet you're hungry and want lunch, right?” Harry elaborated.

“Erm lunch? Oh! Lunch, right! Sorry, my mind's still on the book I'm reading,” Draco lied with a flush of embarrassment. He turned so that he couldn't see Harry, and then focused on the garden. “This looks decent considering that you tended it without any help.”

Harry chuckled. “Well, when I get a chance, I plan to invite Neville over to help make it into something to be proud of.”

“Sounds... nice...” Draco murmured diplomatically.

Harry didn't bother to reply. Instead, he wiped his hands clean and beckoned to Draco. “Come on, you may as well come sit in the kitchen while I make us something to eat.”

Draco followed Harry, inexplicably staring at his arse the entire time. This realization shook Draco to his core because – after what had happened to him – he just hadn't been interested in sex at all. He hadn't even been interested in how people looked, and when he _had_ been interested in looking at people back before his life took a turn for the worse, it had usually been blonde girls and tall scrawny boys that looked like girls. And of course, Harry. Harry and the string of encounters they'd had back at the end of Sixth year had ironically been the most he'd been with any one person in his life. 

Harry decided to make something a bit lighter than their breakfast had been. So he made a salad with all his favorite toppings and a homemade ranch dressing. He also made a delicious tuna mixture to be spread on wraps, much like burritos. Lastly, he juiced three medium lemons and made lemonade to drink.

Draco was frankly impressed, but he did his best to hide this from Harry. After only a bite, he shrugged indifferently. “This isn't half bad.”

“Thanks,” Harry murmured with a small grin.

They ate in relative silence until Draco felt the need to say anything at all. Preferably something to distract him from watching small beads of sweat slowly roll down Harry's chest – which was covered in bruises from the stinging hexes. Draco felt like wincing at the sight of them.

“I should heal those before I start on tonight's torture,” Draco murmured. “Unless you've had enough.”

Harry looked to the ceiling as he thought this over. “Er... Well I didn't like that water thing, but so long as you do anything else, I guess I'm... yeah. I still want more punishment.”

Draco nodded, and then looked at his plate without seeing it as he thought. “So, I guess then the real question is what to do until then? I should make you do something humiliating. I have to be honest with you, the things I learned were all torture of the nastiest kind, but that's not helpful at the moment because I am not trying to break your spirit. In fact, I think this is some form of therapy!”

Harry chuckled at that. “I think it is too.”

“So... I am at a bit of a loss over what to do. I'm sure you want it to be effective, but...” Draco hummed as something occurred to him. “Would you find it humiliating to dress up as a maid or something and clean while waiting on me hand and foot?”

“Of course I would find that humiliating!” Harry burst out, his cheeks dark red from an embarrassed blush.

“Good!” Draco stated with a smirk. “I'll give you some time to take a shower if you want, and then I'll heal your bruises. After that, I'll transfigure one of your shirts into a suitable costume for you to wear.”

Harry sighed in reluctant acceptance. “I can do all that. By the way, if you finish with that book before I'm done, there's a sequel called the Path of Honor in the library right next to where you found the Path of Fate.”

Draco gave him a slight smile. “I only picked it because it was literally the first book I came across, but I must admit that it's interesting. For a muggle book, that is.”

Harry smirked. “There's a lot of books written by muggles that I think you'd like if you just gave them a chance.”

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe. But I don't plan to be here long enough to find out.”

“Okay,” Harry murmured, not wanting to argue with him about the fact that they could always try being friends and reading books together in the future. He then went to his room to take a shower.

In the bathroom attached to his bedroom, he got a good look at himself in the mirror and winced at the sight of the copious bruising on his chest and arms. “No wonder he was staring,” Harry muttered under his breath. A few waves of his wand was all it took to get rid of them, but he kept one because he felt it looked, well, pretty.

After that, he took a quick shower. Eventually, he stood in his bedroom staring at a tee shirt. “Dress like a maid,” he grumbled unappreciatively. “The bastard! Why didn't he say dress like a butler? Or even a house elf!”

Taking a deep breath, Harry transfigured the shirt into an iconic black maid's dress and another tee into the accompanying white apron. Then he transfigured a pair of sweat pants into the embarrassingly kinky fishnet stockings. Lastly, he transfigured a hat into that ruffly white thing that was supposed to go on the head.

“I'm _not_ wearing heels or carrying a feather duster!” Harry roared emphatically despite the fact that he was still in his bedroom and hoped that Draco couldn't hear him.

His bedroom door opened a moment later. “What was that?” Draco asked, having come to see what was taking Harry so long.

“I said you're a bastard for making me wear this!” Harry insisted, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Draco laughed, but rather than it be the snide laughter he usually made, it was full of genuine amusement. “I think you did a pretty good job with the costume. I might have actually made you wear that other costume – the one with the one piece black bathing suit and matching fluffy bunny tail and ears.”

Harry stuck his tongue out at Draco, repulsed by the suggestion. “No thank you! This is bad enough!”

Draco bit his tongue before he could laugh again, then pointed out the door. “You should start in the kitchen. Do the dishes. Wipe down all the counters. Wash the floor on your hands and knees. And don't forget to make me some tea.”

“You're enjoying this, aren't you, you bastard?!” Harry growled as he stalked off to do as he was told.

Draco couldn't stop a huge grin as he followed Harry. “Seems to me that we get along so well when you do everything I tell you to!”

Harry glared at him. “Yeah? Well enjoy it while you can because it won't last forever!”

For the first time, Draco was sad about this. “I should have picked a whole month...”

Harry actually chuckled. It was very soft and almost too low to hear, but still a laugh. Draco smirked in return.

For the rest of the afternoon, Draco acted like a little tyrant, making Harry do everything that crossed his mind. This was mainly cleaning things by hand and making things – such as chocolate covered almonds – to feed to Draco. By the time dinner was served, Harry had completely forgotten to be embarrassed by his humiliating costume.

Once the last bite was eaten – Draco having thoroughly enjoyed the seared lobster tails served on a bed of fresh garden vegetables – Harry promptly gathered up and washed the dishes. Draco sat finishing up his wine as he watched Harry. The wine was an excellent vintage, and had probably been in the cellar for at least 50 years.

“You really do know how to cook,” Draco remarked, mostly to himself. Then he sighed, not entirely happy to think about torture again. “I think you're going to want to change into something more comfortable. I plan to hit you with stinging hexes again. This time, I think I'll have you facing the wall so you can't see them coming.”

“Okay,” Harry murmured. A large part of him was looking forward to seeing if he would be able to sleep as well tonight as he had last night. Not to mention, the strange feeling that had overcome him was well worth whatever suffering he'd had.

In practically no time, Harry entered the room where Draco was already sitting. Once again, he was reading. This time, it was the sequel. Draco looked up at Harry and had to swallow to prevent himself from gaping like a fish out of water.

“Is that all you plan to wear?” Draco asked, referring to the pair of black boxers that had a bunch of dark blue telephone booths on it that each said “Police Public Call Box” in bold white letters across a black banner.

Harry shrugged. “Why not? You _did_ say comfortable, and at least this isn't a dress...”

“True,” Draco murmured, realizing that his only objection was that he wanted to run his tongue over all that bare skin. Clearing his throat, he decided not to say anything more. Instead, he flicked his wand, casting a spell that flung Harry up against the wall again. This time, Harry really was facing the wall.

Draco nearly groaned when he noticed that the view of this side was just as delectable. Taking a deep breath, he pushed away all inappropriate thoughts and focused on his task. From his experience last night, he knew that he could start Harry off on a slightly higher intensity.

Draco divided his attention between the book and casting the hexes. He didn't want them to be predictable, so he cast the hex every couple of paragraphs. Once more, he slowly increased the intensity, keeping a sharp ear out for if Harry used the safeword.

It took about an hour and a half, but eventually Harry reached that orgasmic state. Draco blushed as he realized that this was twice now that he'd pleasured Harry without having any sort of sexual contact. More disconcerting was the fact that Draco _really_ wanted to find out what it would be like to bed Harry. In the past, they'd never managed to make it to a bed, and right now, it was all Draco could think about.

However, he did the responsible thing by releasing Harry from the wall and levitating him to his bed. Once Harry was settled, Draco fiddled with Harry's hair – as if petting a dog. Well, actually, it was more like stroking a lover, but Draco didn't want to think about that too closely. When he determined that Harry was sleeping rather than staring blankly off into space, Draco left the room.

After undressing and crawling into the bed in the guest bedroom, the book held his attention until he felt tired. It didn't take long to slip into sleep. It also didn't take long for the nightmares to start.

A particularly nasty nightmare must have made him cry out, because suddenly Harry was there saying his name. Draco let Harry pull him into his arms and rock him while whispering: “Shh...” and “It's alright...” over and over again. Draco held onto Harry long after the dream stopped effecting him simply because it felt good to be held like a child.

Harry brushed the hair out of Draco's face and looked at him intently. “Do you feel like talking about it?”

Draco shook his head. “Not really, I... Well, it's the same as always. I was watching a woman be brutally violated and murdered. I don't really want to think about it.”

Harry ran his fingers through Draco's hair in the same way that Draco had done to Harry earlier. Draco melted at the touch, his nightmare banished completely. Without thinking, he shifted until he could give Harry a kiss.

Harry stiffened in shock for a moment, and then returned the kiss. What started out as fairly innocent soon turned into a heavy exploration of each other's mouths. Harry eventually groaned with longing and shifted so that he was practically pulling Draco onto his lap. His hands stroked Draco's back until they cupped his arse through his silky boxers.

Draco pulled back slightly. “Wait... is this going where I think it's going?”

“Only if you want it to,” Harry replied, his voice husky with lust.

“I... yeah...” Draco answered, looking away to hide just how very badly he wanted it.

“Then come back to my bed with me,” Harry invited with a soft smile. “It's bigger and more comfortable.”

“Okay,” Draco murmured, shifting off Harry's lap so that they could leave the room.

Once in Harry's bed, they both felt awkward and unsure of themselves. Harry solved the problem by pulling Draco close and snogging the living daylights out of him. Draco moaned blissfully, pressing his body into Harry's.

A good half an hour passed with them kissing and stroking the other's back. Eventually, Harry got frustrated. He pulled back and looked Draco in the eyes.

“I want you inside of me,” Harry informed him seriously.

Draco goggled incredulously for a moment. “Have you bottomed since the last time we were together?”

“No... I haven't really had sex at all since then,” Harry replied honestly. “I just didn't have anyone else available. I've thought about having sex with you a lot and I really want you inside me now.”

“Well, if you're sure...” Draco agreed with a cocky smirk, conjuring his favorite herb scented oil. He then took the time to carefully prepare Harry, working slowly until he had two fingers inside him. This was the first time they hadn't practically torn each other to shreds and they both wanted to take their time and enjoy every moment.

“I think I'm ready,” Harry whispered at one point, and Draco removed his fingers. He then conjured more oil to rub into his shaft. It was only then that he realized that Harry must have magicked their boxers off at some point.

“Please let me know if this hurts. Badly, I mean,” Draco murmured insistently as he settled on top of Harry, who was on his back. This was the first time either of them could think clearly enough to be concerned with possible pain. However, with everything Draco had been through since his last time with Harry, he now was a nervous wreck with the possibility that he might hurt Harry. Although, Draco suspected that Harry wouldn't mind if there was pain.

“I will,” Harry assured him, spreading his legs wider to give Draco clear access.

Draco took a deep breath before pushing his shaft into Harry. On the one hand, it felt positively glorious! On the other, he knew exactly how terrible it _could_ feel for Harry, and so he bit down on his urge to rush. He took his time, backing off each time Harry tensed up, and then pushing deeper when he relaxed. Eventually, Draco was buried deep and waiting for Harry to adjust. Harry held still for a moment, and then exhaled in relief and nodded his head.

“You can move now,” Harry permitted. He thought it was a bit strange that they weren't half attacking each other, like they always did in the past. He figured that it must have something to do with the fact that they were both still relaxed and half asleep.

Draco still didn't want to hurt him, so he gripped Harry's hips firmly as he made lots of slow movements. When Harry moaned in pleasure, Draco took this as a sign to speed up a little. They both thoroughly enjoyed the moderate but steady pace.

At some point, Harry realized that Draco was still too afraid to hurt him. So he took the initiative by wrapping his arms around Draco's neck and pulling him closer for more snogging. This was effective in making Draco forget everything but the way he felt – which was incredible!

After that, they both lost all control, grinding into each other as much as possible. Harry reached his climax first, holding Draco tight and arching his back as he cried out. The feel of Harry pulsing made Draco groan and rest his head on Harry's shoulder as he pumped him full.

Draco wanted to stay exactly where he was for as long as possible, so he settled himself on top of Harry, and then nuzzled Harry's neck. “I think I can sleep now.”

Harry chuckled, still holding onto Draco almost possessively. “Strangely, I think I could eat, but sleeping is good too.” Within moments, they were both out cold.

Draco woke up quite abruptly the next morning when he was rolled under Harry and then snogged until he was breathless. Light petting turned into mutual handjobs, which was followed by a long sensual shower and blowjobs. Draco clung to Harry as the world slowly stopped spinning.

“I could get used to this...” he murmured.

Harry chuckled and gave Draco a sweet kiss. “Me too.”

Draco twisted his lips into something resembling his trademark sneer. “Of course, now that you have made it impossible for me to walk, you'll have to serve me breakfast in _your_ bed!”

Harry laughed, grinning. “Anything in particular you want, little tyrant?”

Draco glared at Harry for his remark, but didn't say anything about it. He thought over the possibilities, and then sighed. “I _want_ to say make a buffet with lots of waffles and crepes served with fresh fruit and hand whipped cream, but I'm so hungry that what I really want is whatever you can make in five minutes or less!”

“So... toast?” Harry asked with a cheeky smirk.

Draco blushed very lightly and covered his stomach when it growled. “Er, yeah. Toast sounds good. Served with butter and peanut butter and a bowl of fresh fruit.”

“Okay, sounds good.” Harry agreed, and then kissed Draco before leaving the bathroom.

Closer to ten minutes later, Harry entered his bedroom to find Draco propped up by pillows, reading. Naked. Harry bit his lip and suppressed a moan triggered by the sight. He walked over to the bed and set the tray in the middle so that they could both eat from it.

Draco grinned at Harry. “You even brought me tea!”

Harry grinned at Draco in return. “Well, you seem addicted to the stuff so I thought it safer to bring some rather than find out what sort of cranky beast you turn into when the withdrawals hit.”

“Shut it you!” Draco snarled with a glare. He was tempted to hit Harry with a pillow, but didn't want to risk ruining their breakfast.

A few minutes passed in silence as they each ate, but then Draco sighed. “Am I still torturing you then?”

“Yep,” Harry stated with a tone that suggested that he had just answered the question: is the sky blue?

Draco nodded quietly. “Well... since you didn't like the water torture, I suppose that I'll have to use cold today.”

Harry ate the last bite of his toast and set his empty plate back onto the tray. “Cold?”

Draco cast a charm on the tray to ensure that it didn't unbalance and spill the tea in the pot as they shuffled around the bed and climbed off. “As much as I love seeing you naked, you're probably going to want to wear boxers and a pair of socks.” He also summoned a pair of thin gloves.

Next, they walked to the room that was empty except for the chair and things that Draco had deemed necessary. Today, he shrank them all and levitated them over to a task table in the hall. Harry looked around the empty room, and then looked at himself wearing nothing but boxers, socks, and a pair of gloves.

“I'm not going to like this, am I?” Harry muttered out loud, not really directing the question at Draco.

“Probably not,” Draco answered anyway. “I'm going to cast a monitoring charm on you to make sure that you're not injured. Then I'm going to cast a monitoring charm on the room so that I can hear everything you say. If you say your safeword, I will come in and stop this right away. If not, I'll leave you in here until lunch.”

“I understand,” Harry murmured, sounding as if he was withdrawing into a mental safety zone.

“Good,” Draco stated. He then cast the first charm, which created a glowing band around his wrist that displayed Harry's temperature and vital signs.

Next, he cast a spell that would make the entire room just slightly warmer than freezing. Theoretically, it would be warm enough not to give him frostbite or hypothermia, but still cold enough to make him suffer. After that, he set the monitoring charm on the room, left, then shut and locked the door.

“Draco? Did they do this to you?” Harry asked, his voice coming through the glowing band on Draco's other wrist.

Draco adjusted the charm so that he could talk through it too. “Not this, no.” He walked back to Harry's room, planning to read in Harry's bed. “I watched it done to a muggle man, except they wanted him to die, so it was much colder.”

“I see,” Harry murmured, both relieved that Draco hadn't suffered through this _and_ sad that some poor muggle man had. His teeth were already chattering just a bit as he shivered.

For nearly the first hour, Harry paced back and forth and tried to stay warm. It only served to delay the inevitable. Eventually, he stopped pacing when he realized that he was staring off into the corner, not really looking at anything. This prompted him to sit down and make himself as small as possible in an effort to conserve his body heat.

Close to another hour later, Harry was shivering too hard to continue hugging his knees to his chest, so he gave up and lay down. His mind drifted from thought to thought until he entered a meditative state.

“This reminds me of when I died. I got to talk to Dumbledore, and at least at that moment, the afterlife looked a lot like King's Cross Station. Voldemort was this tiny pathetic thing; I almost felt pity for him. I was so ready to cross over and just stay dead. I didn't want to live my life anymore. I guess that in many ways, I still don't. I should have surrendered to the peace. I would have liked the afterlife. Even if it had remained just me and Dumbledore for all of eternity, I would have at least had someone interesting to talk to. But at that point, Voldemort was still alive, and I still needed to defeat him. It didn't really occur to me that I was the last Horcrux. With me gone, anyone at all could have killed him. Neville had the Sword of Gryffindor; he could have done it. It didn't need to be me. I could have stayed dead.”

Harry was silent for a long moment, and then he added: “If I had stayed dead, I would have paid for everyone else who died or got hurt.”

Draco burst through the door, promptly ending the cold spell and rushing to pull Harry into his arms. He held Harry tight and rocked him soothingly. “Hush now! Don't talk like that!”

Harry snuggled into Draco's warmth. “Why not? It's true.”

“It's not true!” Draco cried out insistently. “The only one who ever needed to pay any sort of price was Voldemort! _He's_ the insane monster who latched onto any excuse he could to torture and kill innocent people! He's the only one at fault, and you defeated him! _You_ deserve to live happily ever after!”

“I don't know if I can,” Harry murmured despondently.

“Why not?” Draco wondered, but didn't give Harry a chance to answer before continuing. “You know, if you don't do whatever it takes to be happy, then you're just letting him win.”

Harry thought about this quietly for a moment. “I suppose that's true.”

Draco helped Harry out of the torture room and back into his bed so that they could cuddle until Harry fully warmed up. By that time, they were hungry again. Draco nudged Harry as if trying to push him out of bed.

“Go make me... Chicken Parmesan on Linguine with Alfredo Sauce. Add shrimp if you have it,” Draco ordered.

Harry grinned. Since he liked to cook, he actually _did_ have shrimp. “Okay. Should I serve it in here?”

“Nah,” Draco denied with a shake of his head. “I think it would be nice to eat outside. Then I can watch you tend to your garden for a bit.”

“Mmm...” Harry moaned in thought. “Outdoor sex...”

Draco chuckled. “Maybe. Maybe I'll try to humiliate you by having you strip down and pretend to be a dog or a horse. I'll have to transfigure something into a tail and some ears for you to wear.”

“God! You're twisted!” Harry exclaimed.

“I don't hear you telling me no,” Draco pointed out.

Harry grumbled as he left the room to go make lunch.

 

*****

 

The next day, Draco had decided against things like water or cold torture in order to have Harry pretend to be Draco's chair for most of the morning. A naked chair that Draco tended to stroke and fondle at random. That turned into an interesting round of sex before a shower to clean up – which also turned into sex.

By this point, Draco was confused by whether or not he actually was still torturing Harry. That said, Harry kept insisting on it, and Draco had to think hard about things to do that weren't repetitious or boring. When in doubt, he figure it was best to just have Harry do something for or to him.

After lunch, Draco decided that the time seemed right for some serious pampering.

“Transfigure a table so that you can give me a full body massage,” Draco ordered.

“That actually sounds fun,” Harry murmured, and then frowned. “So, how exactly is that torture?”

“It's torture because I'm going to make you do it until it's time for you to make dinner!” Draco insisted.

“Okay,” Harry capitulated with a tiny smile.

By the time Harry was done massaging Draco, he felt like he had literally melted into a puddle of goo. Harry let him nap while making dinner. Because Harry was in the mood for simple, he formed some ground beef into burgers and grilled them in the back yard. He also sauteed some mushrooms and onions so that when burgers were done, he layered some of the sauté mix on them, and then topped them with swiss cheese.

Harry let Draco know that dinner was done, and Draco got dressed. Mostly this was because he was certain that he'd end up groping Harry and forget to eat if he remained naked. Harry had already tossed on a pair of boxers while cooking, just for a bit of protection should anything splatter on him.

They ate dinner and drank butterbeer in silence, each more than a little sad that the three days were almost up.

“Hermione will be here in a couple of hours,” Harry remarked.

“Then we should probably skip doing anything else,” Draco reasoned.

Harry shook his head. “Nope! I want the stinging hexes!”

Draco repressed a reluctant sigh. “I suppose we might have just enough time for that.”

“Do you plan to leave right away?” Harry asked, part of him feeling like something important would be destroyed if Draco left.

“I'll probably have to,” Draco stated with a shrug. “Your friends will probably kick me out.”

Harry nodded sadly in agreement, and then led Draco into the torture room. It was ready for them, so Draco sat down and picked up the book he was reading – which at this point, was the last book of the trilogy: The Path of Blood.

“Place your hands on the wall,” Draco ordered.

“You're not going to shackle me to it with magic?” Harry asked.

“Not tonight,” Draco stated. “You're not planning to escape and you've never once used your safeword, so I have every expectation that you will hold still.”

Harry nodded, faced the wall, and then placed his hands on the wall as he braced himself. Draco examined Harry's back – which had been mostly healed of previous bruises by this point. With a deep breath, he began, working slowly as usual.

An hour later, the stinging hexes were painful enough for Harry to gasp or cry out on occasion, but not painful enough to truly hurt him yet. Draco increased the intensity as he turned the page of the book. Harry cried out a bit louder, but to Draco, it sounded more like a sexual cry than one of pain.

A while later, Harry sounded very close to the end. The door opened to admit Ron and Hermione, who looked around with expressions that stated clear as day that they were suspicious, wary, and also more than a little curious.

“We're not done yet,” Draco stated with a tone of boredom as he turned the page, read a paragraph, and then cast a stinging hex at Harry. Harry inhaled a sizzling breath, but otherwise did nothing.

“But the time is up,” Hermione protested softly. Ron looked ready to literally snatch Harry away, but Hermione held him back.

“Trust me, it will be better if you let me finish,” Draco informed them, casting another hex. He focused on the book solely so that they wouldn't see how disappointed he was that the time was up.

“But...” Ron started, stopping when Draco held up a hand.

“Harry, can you hear me?” Draco asked.

Harry's voice sounded far away. “Yesss...”

“Do you want me to stop?” Draco inquired.

“No...” Harry murmured. “Not done yet...”

“You see?” Draco stated more than asked, and then hit Harry with another hex. Harry gasped just a little.

“What's wrong with him?” Ron asked in a whisper. “He sounds...”

“He sounds like he's in shock,” Hermione added, also in a whisper.

“He's close to shock, yes,” Draco acknowledged. “But not quite there yet. You'll probably be shocked when it happens.” Draco smirked at them a bit mischievously.

Draco continued to hit Harry with stinging hexes, but since he really wasn't hurting Harry – as far as Ron and Hermione could tell – they let him do it. The most interesting thing in their opinion was that Draco could read a book while he tortured Harry!

When one hex provoked a particular sound from Harry, Draco looked up. “It'll be the next one or the one after. I'm warning you to stay out of my way because I'll need to tend to him.”

Sure enough, the next hex had Harry shaking and wobbling as he threw his head back and slowly slid to the floor. Draco grabbed onto him and used just a bit of magic to help carry Harry to his bed. He looked up to find that Ron and Hermione had followed.

“You can sit with him until he falls asleep. Just make sure that he doesn't have a bad reaction – like crying. He hasn't so far, so he should be fine,” Draco instructed as he got up to make room for them.

“Draco...” Harry called out very softly, his voice still sounding far away. “Don't... leave...”

“I'll just be in my room,” Draco promised. “I have a book to finish reading.”

“Good...”

As Draco left the room, he watched Hermione sit on the bed and place a hand on Harry's head as if checking him for fever. “Oh Harry...” she murmured, casting a diagnostic spell to make sure that he wasn't injured.

“What happened?” Ron asked in a low voice so as not to disturb Harry.

Hermione looked up at him with a faint smile. “I think Harry found a form of punishment he likes.”

Ron didn't look happy about this, but he sighed as if reluctantly letting go of something frustrating. “Well... if he's not hurt, then it's really none of our business, right?”

“Right,” Hermione confirmed with a slightly bigger smile. She noticed that Draco had not quite left the room yet. “Does Harry feel like he's been punished enough yet?”

Draco shrugged. “I don't think Harry will _ever_ feel like he's been punished enough, but... But I _do_ think he's made progress.”

“That's good,” Hermione stated with a relieved smile.

The next morning, Draco discovered that he had not only slept all night with no nightmares – his body seemed to still be relaxed from a combination of shagging and a very thorough massage – but that Harry had made a feast for breakfast. It was _not_ served in bed, but only because Ron and Hermione had also spent the night, and so everyone was eating in the kitchen.

The conversation revolved around little things for most of breakfast, but near the end, Harry took a swig of orange juice to clear out his mouth.

“Draco?” Harry gave him a serious look.

“What?” Draco wondered curiously.

“I think you should move in with me,” Harry stated solemnly.

“What?!” Draco responded incredulously, echoed by Ron.

“I don't mean for you to continue on with the torture, because I know how much you actually don't like that, but I'm serious. I like having you here and I think that you have less nightmares here too,” Harry hypothesized.

Draco thought about this a moment. It was true that he did have less nightmares, but that was because he and Harry had taken to having sex whenever he woke up with one. For some strange reason, this did not encourage more of them as one might think it would.

“Well, that is true,” Draco admitted. “I didn't have any last night.”

“I didn't either, but then, I haven't since you came here,” Harry informed him. “That thing you do with the hexes seems to turn them off or something.”

Before Hermione could say even a word, Draco gave Harry a narrow look. “Perhaps, but that's not exactly something that should happen every day.”

“I know,” Harry murmured in disappointment. As much as he really liked it, his body was starting to protest the continual abuse.

“I'll think about it,” Draco murmured evasively. He honestly couldn't decide at the moment, but also didn't want to give Harry hope in case he opted not to accept the offer.

“Wait,” Ron interrupted before Harry could say anything else. “If this is just a matter of wanting someone to live with you, we could always stay here.”

Harry smiled at Ron. “I know you would, and you still can if you want, but I'm serious about wanting Draco to stay here. As shocking as it may be, I think we're good for each other.”

Draco felt happier than he could remember feeling in a long time. He reached across the table to take hold of Harry's hand. “I think so too.”

“So you'll stay?” Harry asked hopefully.

Draco took a breath and held it for a moment before replying. “I'll stay.”

Harry grinned at him, squeezing Draco's hand happily.

Ron shook his head in stunned disbelief. “This is mental!”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed with a grin. “But it works.”

Hermione kissed his cheek. “I'm happy for you. Ron and I should probably give you some time alone... Unless you'd prefer us to help Draco move in.”

Harry returned the kiss on the cheek. “Nah, I think alone time sounds good. Thanks for understanding.”

“No problem,” Hermione murmured. “Come on Ron.”

Ron sighed reluctantly, and then gave Harry a brotherly hug. “I'll fire call later so that we can talk about this more. Maybe over a pint at the pub.”

“Sounds good,” Harry agreed with a grin. After his friends had left, Harry grinned at Draco. “So... any idea what you want to do now?”

Draco smirked evilly. “I want to finish up the book I'm reading!”

Harry laughed. “Okay. Let's go in the den; I'll rub your feet while you read.”

Draco moaned in anticipation.

“And after you're done...” Harry added suggestively.

“Yeah?” Draco inquired in anticipation.

“There's another book by Diana Pharaoh Francis called Bitter Night that I think you might like too,” Harry informed him.

“Yeah?” Draco asked, intrigued. “Is it like this series?”

“Not really,” Harry stated with a shake of his head. “This one takes place in the so-called real world, and features lots of fighting and even a little torture.”

Draco twisted his lips into a dry smile. “Doesn't sound all that interesting to me, but I'll give it a read.”

“After we shag,” Harry insisted.

“After we shag,” Draco agreed with a happy smile.

 


End file.
